


Jupon

by yeaka



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 06:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Christophe finds Phichit indulging a fan.





	Jupon

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri on Ice or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

As much as Christophe enjoys the company of handsome men, he knows when to back down, and for once, he isn’t outside Victor’s door. He doesn’t want to go to the banquet _alone_ , of course, and usually Victor would be his top choice, except that now Victor has someone else to flirt with in the backseat of a cab. Fortunately, there are still plenty of competitors to choose from, and a quick text revealed his top choice as rearing and ready. Almost an instant after he sent his proposal, Phichit countered back: _Sure thing. ;)_

And Christophe actually managed to refrain from delving into more—because a winking face from one hot bachelor to another is _never_ just a wink—because soon they’ll be at a fancy dinner brimming with champagne, and Christophe is a better flirt in person. It’s always his specialty, but his charm is best when honed by all five senses: the lilting timber of his voice, the soft touch of his hand, the look of his gorgeous body, the scent of his cologne, and the taste of his talented tongue. Better yet is the sense of his subject. Sexting is fun, phone sex is more so, and in-person involvement is beyond it all. So he strolls down the hotel’s hallway, ready to start _now_.

He knocks on Phichit’s door, and half a minute later, rushing footsteps foreshadow the handle twisting. The doorway opens to reveal a pretty face and a prettier body—Phichit’s smile is as all-encompassing as always, but Christophe finds his eyes trailing down and staying there. 

“Hey,” Phichit chirps, like there’s nothing out of the ordinary at all. He steps back, holding the door wider. “Sorry, I’ll just be a minute—do you want to come in and wait?”

Christophe nods and does so. Then he shuts the door behind himself, not because it’s the sensible thing to do, but because it’s his first instinct when entering a hotel room with someone so ravishing. At the click of it, Phichit turns and strolls back through the living space, around the beige suede couch, and over to a full-length mirror. The same one lies in Christophe’s quarters, strategically trying to elongate the space, or maybe just for this: people like Phichit who live for selfies. Phichit poses for his reflection, one hand on his hip and the other holding up his phone. He does a little spin, and the bottom of the sundress flitters about his thighs.

He’s wearing a _sundress_. Nothing underneath. Or maybe it’s more of a minidress—it’s short, fairly snug around his middle, but loose where it hangs off of his slender hips, ready to twirl and kick up with a wind. Thick straps hold the straight neckline over his shoulders, and the back’s the same line as the front—smooth and relatively shapeless. The white-yellow fabric is littered in cartoon hamster, which marginally explains things—Christophe’s fairly certain they’re Phichit’s favourite animal. Phichit tilts his head, his black bangs falling neatly into place. The light fabric sharply contrasts his tanned skin and dark features. It works especially well with the peaked cut of his lashes. It fits well on his lithe figure. All things considered, he looks _delectable_.

“A fan sent it to me,” he explains, while Christophe drinks in his fill. The phone flashes, signaling the first picture. “It’s supposed to be a figure skating costume, but it looks more like a regular dress, doesn’t it? Still, it’s got this awesome hamster print, so I want to post a few selfies with it for her. I’ll change and be ready to go in just a minute, okay?”

The thought of Phichit changing out of the dress, likely into a suit or something equally un-sundress-like, is a sudden cold shower. Christophe’s already pulling his phone out of his jacket’s pocket. He asks, “Can I take a picture?”

Phichit glances over his shoulder, looking just a hint surprised, then as cheerful as ever. He says, “Sure,” and turns to give Christophe a better view. He brings his hand up to his face in the typical ‘V’ pose, and Christophe frames him perfectly, snapping a few off. After the third flash, Phichit pads closer, asking, “How’d it come out?”

Frozen on the still picture of Phichit’s glory, Christophe announces, “Absolutely beautiful. I can’t decide if it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen or the hottest.”

Now at Christophe’s side to see the picture, Phichit’s face jerks up to him. For a split second, Phichit is frowning, but that melts swiftly into calmer surprise. A light blush blooms across his cheeks, which only compounds his allure. Then he looks down at the dress, tugging the hem experimentally. “Really...?” Before Christophe can answer, Phichit looks up again. The blush deepens, and he tells Christophe somewhere right between dead serious and playful, “Your routine was amazing, by the way. _That_ was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Christophe’s grin is growing by the second. He knows an invitation when he hears it. And he takes it. “Thank you. You did excellently too—that’s why we get to go to these banquets, after all. Speaking of which, we should really be going... or...”

Eyes alight, Phichit repeats, “Or...?”

Closing what little distance is between them, Christophe loops an arm around the small of Phichit’s back. He comes close enough to smell the faint strawberry of Phichit’s shampoo, and when Phichit doesn’t pull away, only looks down at Christophe’s lips, Christophe purrs just short of Phichit’s mouth, “Or we could stay here and find out just how... _durable_... that costume is.”

Phichit grins like a cat with cream. He coos right back, “And here I was about to ask you to help me out of it.” He takes Christophe’s hand before Christophe can say how much he’d like to keep the dress on, just so long as Phichit doesn’t mind it getting wrinkled.

Phichit guides Christophe back into the bedroom, and everything but the dress comes off.


End file.
